“What’s wrong now?” Li Jinglong examined Hongjun’s face. “Why are you always angry with me?”
“It’s fine,” Hongjun said. “Go ahead and stay, then. I’m leaving.”
Li Jinglong smiled; despite Hongjun’s harsh words, he knew he didn’t really want to leave. Grabbing Hongjun’s hand, he said, “Hongjun, don’t worry, everything will be fine.”
Hongjun turned and looked at him intently, his brow creased with anger and anxiety. “Then tell me, what can I do? I have no idea what I should do. I admit I’m not smart. That’s why you guys never tell me what’s going on. It’s all to protect me and to keep me from worrying, but even then, I still worry about you—about everyone else!”
His outburst brought Li Jinglong up short. It wasn’t his first time hearing Hongjun complain about this, but he had never seen him so emotional about it, especially after they’d already talked things out.
“I don’t want to be kept in the dark all the time like this!” Downtrodden, Hongjun continued, “Forget it, maybe I’m just not…not cut out to be an exorcist. I’m too stupid.”
“The heavenly demon inside the third host intends to get rid of Xie Yu,” Li Jinglong said abruptly. “Meanwhile, Xie Yu wants to use us to get rid of the rogue heavenly demon. It’s that simple.”
“That’s right.” A voice came from outside the courtyard. “It is simple. So why is it so difficult for you to understand?”
Hongjun whirled around—this voice belonged to Yang Guozhong!
At last, the time had come for both sides to lay their cards on the table. “I’ve been waiting for this day for a very long time,” Li Jinglong said grimly.
“I could say the same,” Yang Guozhong replied from afar. In the next instant, the brick and tile of the courtyard seemed to slide apart. The bricks hung suspended in midair for only a moment before flying in all directions, reassembling themselves from the ground up into a perimeter wall that closed the three of them off from the rest of the world.
“Your companions are at my estate,” Yang Guozhong said. “But after thinking it over, I felt there are some things that are better said to you in person.”
Light flared from Yang Guozhong’s body. Hongjun instantly merged his throwing knives, but he didn’t dare make any hasty moves. In response, Yang Guozhong lifted a hand, his palm spitting black flame that curled around Hongjun, who summoned his pentacolor sacred light to parry.
“Stop right there!” Li Jinglong shouted.
White light erupted from Li Jinglong’s hand, blocking Yang Guozhong’s attack. Yang Guozhong deflected the blast of energy with a flick of his sleeve, sending Li Jinglong and Hongjun crashing into a corner.
Hongjun’s chest throbbed dully as Yang Guozhong stepped forward, the picture of calm even as black fire burned in his eyes. “Do you truly imagine that just because you managed to kill Wu Qiyu, you have the strength to challenge a yao king?”
Li Jinglong couldn’t seem to stop coughing—but nevertheless, he insisted on shielding Hongjun behind him. Hongjun gathered his spiritual energy, preparing to surprise Yang Guozhong with a fatal blow when he drew within striking distance. Yet Li Jinglong pressed down on the back of Hongjun’s hand, stilling his blade.
“You’re an ambitious group of youngsters, I’ll grant you that,” Yang Guozhong said. He seemed unusually dignified, as if possessed by the spirit of a majestic sovereign. “Unfortunately, you still have a long way to go.”
Li Jinglong was certain this attack was merely a show of strength to discourage any futile resistance, but he couldn’t be sure how much of his power Yang Guozhong had used. His internal organs seemed to roil after that direct blast of yao energy; it was all he could do to avoid throwing up blood as he crouched on the ground.
Hongjun, accustomed to the presence of powerful yaoguai like Chong Ming and Qing Xiong, was unfazed by Yang Guozhong. But given that the yao before them had once defeated Chong Ming, driving the phoenix and other bird yao into the Taihang Mountains, his strength was at the very least equal to Chong Ming’s. Recognizing that his own techniques were powerless against this enemy, Hongjun realized they could only try to outfox him.
“My heart lamp may be incapable of fending off your yao energy directly,” Li Jinglong said, “but there’s no way you can break the seal containing the demon seed inside Hongjun and take it away.”
“Your heart lamp?” Yang Guozhong’s voice was touched with sarcasm. “For all my calculations, I never expected the heart lamp to end up with you.”
“Considering your abilities, you could have killed me much sooner,” Li Jinglong said, his voice low. “Why didn’t you?”
Yang Guozhong scoffed, then turned to regard Hongjun, seemingly deep in thought. Within this brief exchange, Li Jinglong had already deduced that there was something weighing on Yang Guozhong’s mind—but what? Hongjun had once said that when Qing Xiong instructed him to take the heart lamp down the mountains, he had mentioned receiving the heart lamp from the divine kun of the North Sea, Yuan Kun. A yaoguai who possessed the unique ability to…
Sure enough, Yang Guozhong pinned Hongjun with his gaze. “What did the divine kun say when he gave you the heart lamp?”
Hongjun made no response. He was an inexpert liar and had yet to unravel the convoluted series of events that led them to this point. The best he could do was keep his guard up, ready to protect Li Jinglong against Yang Guozhong’s next attack.
“You’re my dad’s enemy,” Hongjun said grimly. “I’m not answering any of your questions.”
It never occurred to Yang Guozhong that my dad meant Chong Ming. “On the contrary,” he said. “Not only am I not Kong Xuan’s enemy, I was his…friend.”
“Liar!” Hongjun shouted, furious.
Yang Guozhong smiled as he paced a few steps away. Standing with his back to them, he seemed more regal in bearing than even Li Longji as he gazed up at the bright moon.
“I met you when you were very young, Kong Hongjun,” he murmured.
This caught Hongjun off guard. Li Jinglong held up a hand, indicating he would handle it. Hongjun frowned. He glanced at Yang Guozhong, then back at Li Jinglong, his eyes filled with unspeakable anxiety. Li Jinglong covered his hand with his own, patting gently.
“It was shortly after you were born,” Yang Guozhong continued, turning to gaze intently at Hongjun. “You were a babe still in swaddling clothes. I met you again when you were one, two, two and a half, three…”
“Were you the reason we had to keep moving?” Hongjun glowered.
After a moment of thought, Yang Guozhong said, “I came to see you every year until you met Li Jinglong.”
“What?” This time, it was Li Jinglong’s turn to be stunned. His memory of that period was a complete blank.
“So you know everything.” Hongjun’s voice shook. “Xie Yu, tell me what happened.”
“That’s a secret that can only be shared between the two of us,” Yang Guozhong said. “Shall we plan to discuss it at a later time? You ought to know I bear you no ill will.”
“As if I’d believe you!” All of Hongjun’s grief and anger seemed to burst out of him. “My parents wouldn’t have had to move around all the time if it weren’t for you! They wouldn’t have died!”
“They died,” Yang Guozhong said, meeting Hongjun’s eyes. “But not because of me. In the depths of your heart, I’m sure you know the true cause of their deaths.”
The way Yang Guozhong danced around the events of the past left Li Jinglong with a gnawing sense of disquiet. He had everything else well in hand; Hongjun’s memory and past were the only holes in his information. It was entirely possible this gap in his knowledge would have tragic consequences.
Yang Guozhong glanced down at Li Jinglong and smiled. “In any case, the Marquis of Yardang has placed a seal on your demon seed—some insipid nonsense involving ‘love’ or ‘affection.’ I can’t take the seed from you, but you can’t remove it either. Neither of us can seize the advantage, so why don’t we make a deal?”
At last, Yang Guozhong spoke the words Li Jinglong had been waiting to hear. He pulled himself out of the messy tangle of his thoughts. They could take their time verifying facts later. Their priority now was handling their present predicament.